


Waste Your Life

by anawfulybigadventure



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU: Canon divergence, Alcohol, Black James Potter, Drugs, M/M, Strong Language, so many warnings, the war was over when they finished school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-14 01:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14125410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anawfulybigadventure/pseuds/anawfulybigadventure
Summary: Let’s not sit here like morons and talk about feelings, alright mate?Go and write to your little diary about it. Or, you could always go to some psycho and talk and talk and talk about how much you wanted something different, and your life was supposed to be different, whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean, and everything was ruined, and how you are now the way you are, and fucking sort out your goddamn problems and then go on and live in some two-stories house with a nice wife and two and a half kids. Maybe even a dog. And a nice little job. And be bored to death.They were meant to be destroyed by war.





	1. July, 31 - Aug, 1. 1980

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Abuse of alcohol/drugs. 
> 
> Sex, while intoxicated (consensual, but thread under your own caution).
> 
> Violence.

The thing is, the girl is the wet dream of every teenage boy. James suspects that's the goal of hers. Her nipples are cutting through the cloth, and James finds, with a detached curiousity that he can see that they are pierced. Huh, he thinks. He feels his own chest suddenly becoming more aware as he considers getting his nipples pierced. 

Or, fuck, piercing Sirius’ nipples. To have Sirius walk around with some rings in his nipples. 

But, fuck, how much he wants to fuck.

And eat, stuff his mouth.

Cheeseburgers are to die for.

“Hey, Sirius,” - he calls, urgent. He is starving, - “Let’s go and eat.”

He doesn't know where Sirius is, but James has a feeling he wouldn’t go too far.

The thick cloud of smoke surrounding Sirius tries to play some tricks on James, until Sirius cuts through it. The fume from his mouth is licking his hair. James feels his mouth salivating. 

They have work tomorrow, the goddamned traitor of a brain supplies him another fucked-up thought. 

"You're saying?" - Sirius drags the words, lowering himself towards James. He always has to have himself so close to James, his sour breath washes over him. 

James is so bloody horny. 

"Eat. I want to eat," - he places some space between them and shouts the answer through the angry beats of music. 

"Alright, Jamie," - Sirius insistently eats the space back, getting his stupid face right in front of James. He has no idea what James has said, that much is clear from his breathy reply. He's flying much higher than James, somewhere in the Milky Way, what's with him looking at James like he's had everything to do with the birth and the death of Galaxies. James thinks that the next careless turn of the head is bound to make them touch skin over skin. 

"Hey there," - and yes, Sirius just turns his head to the left, smashing his cheek all over James to greet the nipple-pierced girl. Sirius extends his hand, but James can tell that all his moves are just a game to get his face all over James. This is a game that James likes playing with Sirius occasionally. The one that Sirius likes a lot more, and James lives to indulge Sirius, quite obviously. But he doesn't have the taste for it, not today. 

How does Sirius manage to smell so good when all they have done today was getting high? His skin is smooth against his cheek, and so pleasant. 

The girl giggles, and James can feel the smile that splits Sirius' face against his skin. 

An unnesecessary, stupid thought crawls inside him that the game is that hard to play only because James desperately needs it not to be a game. 

Yeah, the thought belongs to some sappy soap opera that Peter loves so much, so James shakes it out of him by diving into that smell of Sirius, accidentally stuffing his whole mouth with black hair. Sirius releases a barking laughter that warms James' chest. So James goes further and circles his arms around Sirius' torso, squeezing him tight and forcing him to sit on James' lap. 

It's probably a good position to hide his half-pitched tent, so that the girl doesn't think it is for her charms, but then Sirius squirms and doesn't stop doing so, which does nothing to calm his boner. 

Does James want to fuck... The desire is almost making him move his hips without a thought, some animal instinct. He wants to fuck so badly he is ready to hump fucking anything, his mouth all wet, his drool already making the way outside his mouth. 

"Let's go and eat," - James stands quite suddenly, not lowering his hands away from Sirius, so that he doesn't fall, and holds him close to hide his boner, interrupting whatever small talk Sirius is making with the girl. James thinks that the glazy look she has in the eyes has nothing to do with the incoherent shit Sirius is preaching (some shit about the muggly book he's reading), and everything to do with his skin and hair. He is beautiful underneath the lights dancing - Sirius’ translucent white skin seems to be absorbing the blue and pink neon, and pulsing back with the rhythm of the heart that James feels beating underneath the skin, and his hair are so shiny they seem to give out their own type of glow, rather than just reflect it. James has never learned the reason Sirius is even trying to flirt, if the battle is already won anytime he's entered the field. 

"Yeah, alright," - Sirius is wriggling his way in James' grip only to plaster himself even tighter to James, to whisper the words directly into his skin. - "Jamie and I have to go..." - he explains to the girl, and James is so done, he just apparates them out to the streets without second glance at the girl. 

"Hey…” - slurrs Sirius. 

James takes his time, orienting himself. Some muggles are gasping at them and rudely pointing the fingers at them. James flips them off. Ministry will probably send yet another fine for making some low ranks do their job of obliviating.

All the while Sirius is trying to relearn the speaking, mumbling incoherently something that sounds like:

“Well, Jamie,” - usually James flips out at the name. He’s not a dog, he told Sirius once, only to be reminded that Sirius is. - “It’s just this girl, you see, she thinks same shit, so it’s like… It’s gotta be true, you know?”

James is getting the headache from his speech.

“You can always go back there, pal, I’m sure she’d be down for it,” - he says, despite his general annoyance, kindly. He untangles himself from Sirius, which is a bit hard, considering that Sirius is fighting him in that. Finally, James pushes Sirius aside, without paying any goddamned ounce of attention to the whimpers that Sirius starts making. He is going to eat.

Sirius catches up with him, and after the half-hearted shoving that James does, while telling Sirius to go back to the girl, they both settle in and start walking. James is too weak anyway to refuse Sirius when he is lowering all his guards down, and at last honest about how much he craves James - being around James, touch James.

“Maybe she’ll be there tomorrow, you know?” - James says, finally settling in the Sirius’ arms.

Sirius looks down at him, slugged in his arms, and chuckles. He looks fond. Usually James tells Sirius to shove this whole condescending face into the trash where it belongs, because James knows what Sirius is thinking of - that whole older than you by shit-ton of months thing, but it doesn't irk James all too much this time. Sirius' face, illuminated by the street lamps, is not all too heavy on the eyes. So James, unable to resist it, and not knowing why he should, just lifts his face and licks Sirius’ cheek. He is hungry enough to salivate for it - the sour taste of Sirius’ skin on his tongue. And just to be an ass about it, James sucks the skin in and bites a little, barely scratching to the endless delight of Sirius who chortles, and then starts to bring his mouth to bite James. Because Sirius is a dog.

James shoves him aside, catching the good mood of Sirius and starts running, laughing out loud.

He gets to McDonalds first, and starts to close the door, but Sirius is up on his heels, and they get into a good shoving fight, pulling and pushing the door, until some old guy barks at them:

“Excuse me, young lads!"

James stops, barely containing the giggles, and Sirius gets inside. Sirius’ good mood is a bit soured, he narrows his eyes onto the old man, probably thinking of a little spell to spoil the game for the pal, same way he spoiled their fun. But James is not going to have Sirius brag with his abilities in wandless magic, so he extends his arm, and gets Sirius hooked into him, covering his eyes, and leading him to the counter. Sirius fights him a little, but then calms with a laugh, and hugs James closer. Does James love Sirius when he's all high, fight all gone, teeth not bared.

The cashier looks at them, dead tired, perhaps even exasperated, and James takes some offence in the fact that she isn't laughing at them. They are bringing this place the much needed humour.

So James is pleased when, after he says what he wants, her eyes widen a bit.

Before paying he pushes Sirius with the words: “Find us a seat,” and slaps his ass to lead him. But Sirius takes few steps to let James pay, and then, maybe because that old prick is still sitting at the same table, returns and gives James the most passionate kiss to the cheek, that, hopefully, to that prick looks like a full make-out session.

A love you that wants to escape James, to scandalise the entire place further, for some reasons gets stuck in his throat when he looks at Sirius. His stupid face is slacked, his eyes look at James like he is witnessing the birth of the cosmos, and, very much likely, that is exactly what Sirius is getting from the drugs. James thinks that Sirius looks young, lacking his usual snark and bite. He is soft, and the tugging inside James confuses him too much to do anything but to push Sirius with the repeated phrase of: “find us a seat,” words so gentle, he might have as well kiss Sirius better and coo over him.

James takes care of the drinks, deciding to take as much of them as he can to wash the food down, and then gets all the food and brings it to their table.

Later on, James will think that Sirius, the arse, has probably given him some drugs again, that James swallowed down, without thinking, while vacuuming their table. Those drugs have explained all too well why Sirius was flying so high, because the rest of the night came to James in flashes and bits. 

James thinks they did something to the old prick. Sirius has probably levitated some of the food that he refused to eat, despite James’ protests - he was starving, Padfoot. So then they apparated some place else, the night young, and they younger.

Both of them screaming through the park, all while running, running, running, forever ahead of their breath. Sirius tells him that he wants to see some stupid band, tugging James all while begging oh so sweetly, come on Jamie, come….

And James, being the ass that he is, the absolute king of making decision just apparates them to the sea, which, because they are still in England is piss cold. 

"You are a goddamned piece of work, Prongs," - Sirius curses, when he stops screaming bloody murder from the lukewarm water, and then ducks out of James' hands to swim to the shore in full, long strides. James is honestly disappointed that Sirius can't just swim like a dog. Sirius is no game, which James tells him, only in no uncertain terms, but then the distance between them grows too big, so James has to save the breath to get swimming.

And they paddle back to the shore, fighting against the waves, shivering in the moonlight, and by the time James gets out of the water, Padfoot manages to make the fire, so James only accios the guitar from the apartment, and makes Sirius sing all those songs he so badly wanted to hear. And Sirius, being as not all too artless in this as he is in everything, threads the notes and sings. James has some suspicions that this song isn’t supposed to have that may curses in it, but shit, if Sirius’ voice isn’t bringing a whole new rush of excitement. “Now, go and dance, Jamie!” calls Sirius before the bridge, and, holy shit, yes! James is an amazing dancer. As good in it as in anything that needs the body. James dances, kicking the sand around them, sending Sirius laugh almost too hard to keep up with the song, but James has gotten the gist of it, so he just keeps singing the chorus on the loop, and Sirius laughs and laughs, the moon shines it’s light above them long after their fire dies. 

The night seems to be long and cold, and James doesn’t know what they do without the fire, on the beach, sitting so close together they fit like a puzzle, all while shaking furiously.

While they shiver without fire, James is asking dumbly why can’t Padfoot just burn the logs again, but the reply doesn’t stick, so James is just left to ask the same question again and again, because he doesn’t get it. 

Sirius is probably only trying to make him shut up when he squeezes James’ dick, but the pressure is so needed there… The sun starts lazily waking up when Sirius drops to James’ crouch and takes him in the mouth, which doesn’t make sense, because James has been quiet ever since Sirius started massaging him. Clothes are gone there, and James doesn’t know when that happened, but he can’t care, because Sirius starts sucking him with so much force, James feels almost no pleasure, and has to start babbling: “Come on, pal, softer there,” and quite obviously Sirius doesn’t care, not one bit, that motherfucker, he just goes harder for it - bobs his head up and down, non-stop, hollows his cheeks, so fucking tight around James. 

The motherfucker gags so much, and so loudly, and still doesn’t stop, and James is sure that if he wasn’t as horny as he is, that wouldn’t do shit for him. But the arousal hits him, against his will, and he finds himself moaning. Sirius pulls no stops, drives further with the same eagerness with which he begun the entire shit with, and even harder and faster. He goes up and down, his head jumping near James’ crouch.

His teeth scrape James’ dick, enough to make James worry about becoming dickless, painful enough, he just slaps Sirius, and tells him to concentrate. It is probably not the best idea to slap the person that has his teeth around your dick, but it makes do - Sirius moans, the vibrations all over James, he drools, his mouth so slack, so full of James. What a sight he makes, James babbles out, with the eyes in tears, the hair all wild, mouth stretched around him, drooling all over, all while never losing that entire god-like beauty. Sirius drops his eyes as soon as James starts talking, and gets to work, at last trying to get James off, without the whole desperation and fight, focusing on what draws the most voice out of James, but never trying to go softer, like James tells him to go, only fast and hard. 

He licks his head, follows the veins on James’ spectacular dick (how did it even fit in Sirius?) to his balls, and sucks them inside his mouth, the skin tender there, but it is when Sirius goes even lower, and, probably accidentally licks James’ gouch, that James just drops his head back, unable against the pleasure wave that goes through him, bringing the promise to overcome him. Sirius tries to go down there, whispering the same shit that will make James think this entire thing was a fragment of his imagination: “Come, Jamie, come,” so sweet, it couldn’t have happened twice in one night. 

Only James isn’t going to have his ass touched, he was going for a blowjob, he needs to see how Sirius will gag for his cum, with his cum, so he brings his hand into Sirius’ hair, and tugs him up. Sirius draws a meek no, his voice all gone, lips barely controlled, unable to say anything more, but James understands what he wants - Sirius wants to go down there, wants to sniff and claim James there. Only Sirius isn't making decisions here. With another hand James grabs his hard dick and feeds it to Sirius as forcefully as Sirius takes him inside, happy with James' ideas, eager to be obeying. James takes control, using Sirius like a rag doll, only chasing his own pleasure, making Sirius bob his head up and down, all while Sirius struggles to keep up, spitting and maybe crying, but never backing down, such a good boy he is. James tells as much to Sirius, while feeding his dick, while making Sirius go down on him.

And when the rhythm that is fast, so fast, is still not fast enough, doesn’t quite go with James’ idea of the wild rhythm needed for him to get off, he drills Sirius with his dick, hitting the back of his throat. 

James actually expects Sirius to start snarking and barking, and only hopes that he won't lose his dick in the fight, but Sirius has no fight in him, goes where James puts him so obediently. And when James lavishes the praise upon Sirius he makes the eye contact with him, so that Sirius would see how much James means all of that, Sirius' eyes are full of gratitude. And James tells him that he is his good boy, such great suck, there never is going to be anyone better than him, no greater fit for James. And then James can't wait any further, can't waste any more time.

He manoeuvres them both, pushing Sirius so that he is laying back on the sand, and James goes over him. He supports himself on the elbows above Sirius, and lets his amazing hips do all the work - harder than he could do it with his hand, so so so fast, he just pistols in and out in crazy rhythm, using Sirius’ mouth as his warm wet hole. He’d be worried about anyone else (not fucking now, brain), but this is Sirius and he takes it all like a champ, and even tries to keep up with James, hitting his dick back and forth with his tongue, a sentiment much appreciated by James' dick. But it isn’t the tongue technique that sends James over the edge. It is when Sirius’ mouth goes all slack, his throat constricting with the moan, the never ending movement of James' dick makes the moan come all sputtering. 

James looks down, and he doesn’t see shit, because he still needs to keep going, drills into Sirius’ mouth, but he gets what happened there nonetheless, knows because the orgasm wave leaves Sirius melting inside the sand - Sirius just came. James only needs to think how Sirius dropped his hand lower to touch himself, getting off on sucking James, that amidst his never stuttering rhythm, he starts coming. His hands start to give out, but he wants to make it last, and he just tucks his dick balls deep inside Sirius’ warm mouth, delivers all his cum to be swallowed. All that tightness around him, Sirius all warm and wet and good, he loses himself there, leaves the part of himself there. The guttural sound rips through him, accompanied by such pretty whimpers and cries from Sirius. And Sirius, not all that hero of James’ fantasy, can’t do shit. 

Sirius pushes James away from him, James’ muscles are partially stiff with the pleasure he still feels, and slack with the aftermath, he goes pliantly, while Sirius sits and starts coughing out, the view full with the dawn-coloured sky behind him. This is James’ cum. Sirius just spits James’ cum. So, yeah, while it is so hot, James is ready for another round, it is also fucking offensive. And he tells Sirius as much, he tells the bastard that he needs to be more careful with James’ sperm, it is fucking golder than gold, which Sirius can’t even reply to, because he is too busy dying with the birth of the new day as his background, picturesque in this as he is in anything, and James enjoys the view, enjoys waxing the poetics about his cum that is worth more than diamonds and pearls, until he can’t enjoy the view at all because Sirius sends the sand in his eyes. That motherfucker.

When James stops crying the sand out, he tells that to Sirius.

“You are a motherfucker.” 

And because it lacks bite, he adds: “You ass.” He is a bit too intoxicated to come up with anything better.

Sirius flips him off, still purple, but already breathing. James sits up and tugs Sirius closer to him, and kisses him on the cheek.

And this is how James faces the first day of his life without Lily.

“We still have to go to work, you know?” - James sours their almost too good to be true mood. For fuck’s sake - they’ve been just sitting here watching the sunrise, what type of a goddamned cliche.


	2. Aug, 1 - Aug, 2. 1980

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: strong language, some violence, codependency? bad choices?????

Waking up with a hungover at the sunset the same day is it’s own type of torture. But James is a grown up adult, so he does have his ways of dealing with it. He deals with the terrible headache so loudly, Sirius throws something at him, and shouts:

“Shut the fuck up, James!"

“Sirius, we overslept!” - James jumps out of the…(?)bed, and then his head screams at him and he falls back down. He doesn’t know which is worse - the nausea or the thumping pain in the eyes. Reluctantly (no harsh moves - he tells himself), James raises his head and finds himself in Sirius’ apartment, on the couch. Sirius stands at the other end, smoking the cig as hard as he has been sucking James’ cock in James’ hazy memories of the day before.

It takes few minutes for James to realise that there is something wrong with Sirius. He is fully dressed, his face a hard mask. James bites all the complaints he’s had related to his terrible hungover.

“Shit, Sirius, did you go to the work?”

Sirius doesn’t even deign him with a reply, just takes another forceful drag of smoke, almost finishing the cigarette in one go. He doesn’t look at James, just stares hard at the wall. He looks like an actor in the theatre, and the audience is supposed to guess the emotions from his face, which is easy for James - Sirius is mad. So mad he can barely reply to James’ questions or move from his clearly uncomfortable place. James thinks that if he were to stare at the wall and smoke the cigarettes in that way, everyone would call him a poser. And, yes, Sirius is a huge drama queen, but, shit, if that whole one-man theatre isn’t working. He really is just standing there, staring at nothing, brooding, and still manages to deliver the whole - my sufferings are so deep, none of the mortals could understand them - vibe.

Against himself, fighting the emotion all the way, as it washes over James - James feels worried. For fuck’s sake, Pads, James was going to spend a nice day moaning about his pain, and, maybe, planting his way towards a new bj. But then, he goes over Sirius’ tense shoulders, muscles in such knots, James feels the pain just watching at Sirius.

“What happened?” - James will bet his left kidney it is related to Sirius’ family. He will, actually, have to kill Valburga. That devilous bitch left him no other choice.

“Nothing,” - Sirius spats. He finishes the cigarette and stamps on it, taking the next one, his fingers almost shaking as they do so.

"C'mon, pal, just come closer, ok?" - James raises his hands to welcome Sirius, only he doesn't look at James. So James raises himself, even though all his blood vessels protest loudly against it, and, hissing from the pain, somehow stumbles into Sirius. - "C'mon, mate, let's just lay over there."

Even his vocal chords seem to be in pain, what's with their work - James' voice goes up and down between whispers and squeaks.

Sirius doesn't exactly obeys James, but doesn't fight him either, just lets himself to be dragged.

James sits down first, and then he tugs Sirius to over him. Now James has a full ready to kill gaze in front of him, Sirius' noble profile - a feast for him to devour.

James lifts his hand to smother Sirius' hair - they are pure silk under his skin, even though James will bet anything Sirius hasn't even showered since yesterday.

He pokes Sirius' cheek with his nose, soft with the sudden thought that underneath all that madness, Sirius might be ready to cry. That he needs to be tender with him as if he is an open wound, a bruise still unhealed.

Sirius loves to have James babying over him, even if he will never admit it, so James settles Sirius in his arms, lowers his head on James' shoulder.

"What did you tell them about my absence?” - he asks gently, glad Sirius is too busy brooding and fixing his mask, he isn’t flipping too hard because of James’ babying. Though he still puts a wordless fight by not letting his head sink into James, has his body so tense, James’ legs are getting numb with the weight.

“Told them you were sick.”

James wants to ask if Sirius had to whisper lowly - Lily has left him, but the concern doesn’t really stick underneath the pang of pain that thought brings him. James shakes the feeling off. Sirius would never.

James gets even softer, realizing that Sirius went to work for him, to deliver that excuse, managing through the pain, and then had to sit through entire day of mind-numbingly stupid work while fighting hungover and fatigue. All of that without James by his side. Entire day without James. Sirius has gone through the fire for him.

“I bet that ass Paddington-"

“He wasn’t there.”

“Oh. Did McKinnon work as the team leader? I’ll bet you anything she and Pad-”

“No, Severus was.”

What?

“Snape?”

“Yeah, you know other Severuses?”

“Shit, did they transfer him to our team?”

Sirius tries to jerk, and James understand belatedly that the entire movement means that Sirius doesn’t know shit about Snape and all his life plans. It really seemed like years of working as Gryffindor’s Tower drama queen representative has paid off, and now Sirius has had capabilities of delivering full sentences in one absent-minded move. Such a talent, thought James proudly. But then, James told himself that Sirius wasn’t really in the mood for jokes and fun. He wouldn’t either after the day at their joke of the job, under Snape’s command. James still seemed to be a little under influence, what's with his brain playing funny, when Sirius looked like he killed somebody, but thank Merlin, James managed not to say anything.

“Did he make you rewrite the report fifty-eleven times?” - and James is always ready to go about the bureaucracy of any type of work, useless papers implanting the idea that all those useless jobs are needed, but Sirius interrupts him:

“It’s wasn’t Snape,” - and because even James can hear the doubt in his own silence, adds: “I mean, he was an ass the whole day, the usual.”

James kind of wants to ask if Snivellus knows anything about Lily and him, but Sirius would have said, if he did.

“D’you know the little fella who works at the desk?”

“Sure, he just got out of Hogwarts, didn’t he? He was Hufflepuff’s seeker, quite good too,” - They met once on the quidditch field, at James’ last year. Ollie was a new member, fourth year, so James underestimated him. And then they had to win with a hundred points advantage at the rest of the games to get the cup because of James' underestimation. James did talk to lil’ Ollie few times, mostly about quidditch, Ollie as flatteringly excited about James’ flying skills as Peter once.

“Yeah, ok. He refused to give our team the assignment sheet. Because we had more Death Eaters than decent people,” - Sirius turns to James, all hard and clearly daring James to say anything to that.

James feels the anger cracking in his bones, clearing his head better than any hungover spell could.

“Little piece of shit.”

“Yeah,” - Sirius at last gives out his weight, turning back to facing the wall.

“We could get him fired. Right this moment, if you want to.”

“Nah, it’s good.”

“It’s obviously not. But you're right, we should do something worse. I'll bet you we could learn where he lives in a couple. I think the bastard even told me once, just give me some time to remember...”

Sirius then sighs and envelopes James in his hug, twisting his body, heaving his breath near James’ ear.

“How’s your hungover?”

“All good now. You should’ve skipped the work today, too. Did you even sleep?”

“No, just took a shower and went to work.”

“Neat.”

Sirius smiles a little next to his ear, James can feel it in his voice when he draws: “Yeah…”

“So. You really preferred to go to be Paddington’s bitch than spend a nice lazy day with me?”

“Everything tops your endless cries.”

James slaps Sirius’ thigh. Quite gently, not at all like he did it the night before. The night before comes to his mind again, and James has a feeling his dick’s twitch might not go unnoticed by Sirius. So he pushes him to the floor, Sirius falling with a noiseless ouf.

“Do you know what we should do? We should just quit our job,” - James stands on the couch, ignoring the pain that threatens to blind him and begins his usual speech:

“Are we humans or are we workers? Why do we have to prove our worth to occupy this planet?”

“James, we both are rich enough to live without work. We took the job because we’d been bored out of our brains by the end of the first summer.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly like that for James. But there’s no need to go down that road just yet.

“Ok, then we have to find something better, because I’m bored out of my brains at this job.”

“Yeah, like what?”

Here James deflates. He looks at Sirius laying on the floor, his hair creating a dark halo to frame his face, and James thinks that he looks comfortable, so James goes from his pedestal down and lays next to Sirius.

“Quidditch players.”

“Sure. Rockstars.”

“We could go to muggle university and study physics.”

Sirius makes a fond face that is saying - “Jamie and his physics.”

“I want to travel.”

“I want to spend another three months being bored so that then any work would seem exciting again.”

That is how it went before, at the end of their first summer out of school. Then it ended with - “I want to be an auror and fight for the noble cause.” Which is what they did. Well, they thought that's what they'd do. Only they are aurors in a disgustingly peaceful time, what's with Dumbledore taking care of everything long before them.

“I want to live as a dog.”

James knows what he has to say next, but what comes out is:

“I want another blowjob from Sirius.”

And Sirius flips. He jerks up and jumps on James - getting his face in front of James, the tugging on James’ collar lifts him a little from the ground. Sirius all but growls at him.

“We are not speaking about that,” - he spats out.

But James just narrows his eyes, completely unimpressed by Sirius’ behaviour.

“Oh yeah? Why not?”

Sirius and all his anger are focusing on James, James can literally feel how the focus zooms to him. How close is Sirius to punching him?

“C’mon, let me return the favour at the very least,” - James’ fingers skim downwards to featherly go over Sirius’ dick, but before he even has the time to get a feel, Sirius jerks up and stands up.

When James stands up to face Sirius, he has no time to say anything, because Sirius swings and punches him cold stone on the ground. The same way that James will punch Ollie tomorrow the moment he’ll see him.

**

“Well, you see, sir, I think, it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…” - are the last words he says before Paddington gets him fired. So Sirius going to work the day before was useless, because, well, Paddington was looking for a reason to fire James for such a long time. James is sure his former boss came in his pants when he ordered James to write a resignation letter.

Sirius meets him outside the building, smoking his cigarette with such a maddening tension that makes James remember their entire talk the day before.

"How was it?" - the bastard asks, as if he didn't knock James down just a few hours ago. James still remembers the explosion of pain inside his brain that blinded him. His eye that caught Sirius' fist is still not opening. All because James dared to talk about something that Sirius was gagging to do.

But then, James thinks that if he dismisses Sirius right this minute, Sirius might think that James is angry about the job that he lost, and James will rather die than give anyone an idea that he might feel anything related to that hell-bent job.

"Fired," - he steals Sirius' cig from his fingers and, compared to Sirius, gently, inhales. The smoke doesn't evaporate the annoyance that James still feels after being knocked out with one punch, but it bides him time necessary for James to have a proper build-up for the talk he needs to have with Pad. (By talk he means the punch).

"Fuck, Prongs. Told you, you should've let me take care of that bruise. My whole coverage yesterday went to shit the moment you appeared wearing it," - Sirius blabbers, fingers fumbling for another cigarette.

James just looks at Sirius, incredulous. Like hell he was going to let Sirius touch the bruise he gave him. James drops the cigarette and stomps on it, and then kicks it in the direction of his former work.

"Sirius, I don't care about the job," - he says.

"What are you gonna tell your parents?"

"Tell them I got fired," - he shrugs. - "I bet they had bets on how long I was going to last anyway."

"Yeah, alright," - Sirius is looking down. Against himself, James thinks that Sirius can be so cute sometimes. The thought that this motherfucker punched him doesn't help shit when Sirius kicks the ground shyly. James tries to hold on to his anger, but it all dissipates with one under-the-lashes glance from Sirius.

James sighs, and thinks that it _could have been_ a bit assholish of him to hold Sirius' actions when he was intoxicated against him the next day, so he decides that with the Sirius' punch they are even.

"I'll be home," - James gently pushes Sirius back to the building while looking at the clock. Sirius is about to be late. James is going to spend a nice three-months long period of being bored to death, interrupted with the broom-flyings, and thoughts about Evans... He stops himself there, thankfully, Sirius is always ready to pull James away from his thoughts.

"James, I'm not going back there," - Sirius states like it's a fact, nonplussed. He looks unimpressed with James' ignorance. Well, it doesn't come as too much of a surprise, James muses. It was silly of him to think that Sirius would work there without him.

Perhaps, he should've stayed there, or at least consult Sirius before deciding their future. He doesn't have the time to think about it, because Sirius drops another bomb on him that James could have not expected at all. Not after Sirius punched him for the same thing.

"You said something about wanting the blow from me?" - Sirius raises an eyebrow, all cool and poised, like it's their thing and not some taboo shit they did once and even the memories of it had Sirius flipping like he never did before.

"The fuck?"

"Why not? You said yourself you liked it," - Sirius looks like he doesn't get what James' problem is.

"You told me to never talk of it and then punched me!"

"I overreacted," - he states like it's another normal thing for them - to have Sirius punch James cold on the ground.

"Besides, I told _you_ not to talk of it, but this time I raised it, so..." - Sirius continues, still having the air around him of being the only one to talk reason.

James just stares at him. He doesn't even know how to cut through this mask that Sirius covers in, thicker than the smoke, because James can't see anything through it.

"Fuck you. No."

James leaves for their house, and Sirius easily catches up with him.

"You could return the favour, if you'd rather," - Sirius keeps pestering him, obviously hoping for a returned punch.

"Ok," - James stops, planting his feet and looks at Sirius. - "What changed from yesterday?"

Sirius narrows his eyes on James, and James doesn't see it on Sirius' face, but he feels it deep inside his bones - that all of that is performance, a lie, but he can't understand what Sirius is trying to hide from him.

"Nothing changed," - Sirius replies with the maddening nonchalance, like he doesn't care one way or another. But for Sirius to ask for anything, despite James clearly stating no, is too unusual. Sirius is gagging for it, the same way he was gagging for James back then, on the beach. Only this time he doesn't have drugs strip his game to the point of all clear need and desperation. But James knows Sirius so well. Sirius almost never wants anything, for him to ask again and again is a sign that James doesn't even know how to interpret, since it never happened before. Ten years of friendship and Sirius still has the cards he has been hiding. Never a boring day, James thinks, feeling himself ready to rise up for the game.

"I overreacted," - he says again looking at James. - "It's alright, isn't it? We both liked it, so why not?"

Because you are hiding something, you bastard, thinks James. Sirius is still arguing, how is that even possible?...

"Tell me why you freaked out then," - demands James.

"No reason, James," - Sirius raises his hands in the air, exasperated. It would've worked on literally anyone else, but James.

"You are lying."

James gets going. Holy shit. Holy shit. James doesn't even care about what Sirius is lying about at this point, because with the next sweep of Sirius' feet the cigarette gets stomped at, Sirius catches up with James and says: "Literally everyone does it," still planting his way towards sex, and James thinks that he's never seen Sirius so desperate for anything in his entire life.

James has always known it is too hard to reject the sex from him. Maybe even impossible.

He only wants to see how far will Sirius go for it.

"Hey, Sirius," - he drops his hand on Sirius' shoulder, content with his plan that will begin once they'll close the door home. - "You said something about rockstars?"

The day is good, job no longer a dead-weight burying him into the ground. The life is only beginning, there is such a promise of everything opening up for James, only this time James knows better than to trust all of them. Promises are better than responsibilities, so he's in no hurry. He'll take his time.


	3. Aug, 2 - Aug, 3. 1980

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: some pubic hair worship, baby talk (?)...

“Hi, we’re the Marauders, hope you like us,” - Sirius introduces them in such a way that makes James seriously regret giving up the mic. _Um, Prongs, you can’t sing, so we’re not making you the lead singer_ , like the talent is important here. They’re rock artists, for fuck’s sake, if anything having a good voice goes against the entire rebel against everything philosophy they’re trying to preach. Are they some preppy boys who are always prepared? The voice that sound awfully like Moony tells him that they are boarding school graduates.

So, yeah, not knowing why the hell not, James takes the mic away from Remus, and screams:

“BE READY TO HAVE YOUR HEADS FALL OFF!!”

And then they ROCK! James is supposed to be on bass, his sense of rhythm superior to anyone, but he goes and helps small little Peter on the drums. Peter is all too tense about playing the drums, lacking the excitement. He was that way ever since James has told them that they are to perform today, and Peter was all like - Oh, but James, I only started learning today, **so what?** So was James with the bass, or Remus with the electric guitar. Only Sirius knew how to play anything - he taught Remus how to play guitar, and, yeah, Remus was surprisingly good in it, probably the result of him wasting the entire day learning how to play it. But not better than James. 

The only one better than James was Sirius, and that wasn’t even fair, considering that Sirius knew how to play piano since he was three or something. _James, that's different_ , like whatever you say, Padsy.

And then James throws everything out of his head, because he is on the goddamned stage rocking. The acid inside him is exploding just like their music, turning James’ body into electricity and fireworks. He is all - the never stopping electrons, fizzing, dazzling, exploding. The mixture of alcohol with the drugs makes the fucking atoms inside him to collide, Stephen Hawking should honestly turn his mind not to the starry sky but inside James. 

The stage is his bitch and he makes some love to her, and to the bar they are performing in, he is having some psychotic orgy with the entire audience, their laughing, rocking, neon lights faces come and go, but his friends stay. The magic flies all over James’ body, just like it flies from the rest three of them, and still he is their goddamned God and when James laughs, they all laugh. They just dance and sing, one song comes after another, James doesn’t even know that many songs, their set list or whatever is totally in ruins now, but who even cares?..

**

“Oh, no, you were absolutely terrible,” - says the girl. She is gorgeous, her hair a dark fizzy halo around her face. James thinks that she might be a witch - because her make up moves like Lily’s did… But it all is just the game of the lights and the booze.

James thinks about going off on her, they are superior to any band ever, but then it isn’t too hard to notice Sirius’ appreciative gaze directed at her. He would hate to be a cockblock yet again, when he still hadn’t redeemed the nipple-pierced lay Sirius was supposed to get.

The performance has left him completely drained, so he is content with watching her and Sirius play the game. Sirius seems to be tired, too, but his eyes never leave her face, body, skin. James sees how he watches over her uncovered shoulders, the unclothed skin above her knees… Sirius is too tired to be hungry, but there is something about his appreciation, because it seems so mindless, because it seems like he is too lazy to control himself and that is the only reason he is eyeing her as inappropriately as he does, that well… James isn’t surprised the girl goes out of her way to flirt into Sirius’ pants.

She sways her hips, though Sirius isn’t watching, when she goes to the bar to grab them all some drinks. Those are some good hips, James has to admit.

“So have you ever thought about a three-way?” - James is so slick there. He thinks it’d be pretty hot. Maybe some sex experimentation is exactly what he needs after being caught up in one girl for so long. Like half-life long.

“Absolutely not,” - Sirius cuts him immediately. James tries to understand if that’s an absolutely not - a real absolute not, or if it is something that Sirius might reconsider after a punch and a freak-out. 

But then, he decides, it’s not like he is craving for it. Not like he craves to see Sirius all hot and needy for him, desperate for a good fuck from James.

“Jaaaames! Was it you who paid this poor man to pretend to like us?” - hollers Remus. He is probably a bit drunk.

“Oh yeah, fellas! This is our new manager! He’s going to promote us!” - James decides to leave the girl to her conquest, and scoots away from Sirius and closer to Peter.

“Gordon, right?” - he extends his arm to greet their new nerdy manager. His glasses are so full of character, they alone belong to the theatre. Not mentioning Gordon’s entire… everything. It’s like someone has said once - you know what, can you be basically become the embodiment of nerd culture?

Remus asks: “So you’re going to promote us?”

“Y-yes.”

James thinks that if he is stammering in front of Remus, he is in for a world of surprises in Sirius. Who by the way doesn’t look even one bit impressed by the man that will make them the next Beatles. Sirius narrows his eyes and looks at the new manager with unhidden disgust. 

“Have you heard us?” - Remus keeps going with his drill. 

“Well, yes, James invited me in…”

“And you still want to promote us?” - Remus gets a nod for that one.

“How much are you paying him?” - Remus immediately turns to James, in some kind of awe. James will have to admit, it does wonders stroking his ego, even if Remus also looks kind of repulsed. 

Sometimes, Remus, you have to pay your way to the top, haven’t you heard anything about the glorious capitalism? Luckily James just answers with the sum. It is better not to raise the Marxist talk in front of Sirius. He goes hard off that one. James always found it exceptionally hot - how Sirius had actually read the Kapital and all that. Was it to spite his family? Absolutely. 

“Holy shit, James,” - Remus and Peter answer at once. Sirius doesn’t even raise an eyebrow. The girl already has her hand on his chest, toying with his leather jacket. 

**

The summer heat is evaporating everything inside his brain. His entire being is long since aflamed and ashed. The night before left him with the thumping pain, but the heat, the humidity - they leave him with the boredom that never clutches him in any other season but the summer. 

He feels inside of him not just the boredom that prohibits him to do anything, he feels such boredom that is telling him, he’ll never want to do anything, and in fact, never in his entire life, he has done anything that wasn’t terribly terribly boring. Life, it seemed now, is to be endured.

James, lying on his back on the floor, feels the hungover spell of Sirius slowly releasing him from the pain. James is realising that even the pain was a sweet distraction from this feeling that the heat has given him.

“What will we do now? And what will we do with our entire lives ahead of us?” - he’s asked several times. Sirius told him not to misquote the classics. Whatever that's supposed to mean, for James can't even bother to indulge in the curiosity. 

The smell of the roses that Sirius got from the fans the day before is making James’ head swim like they had alcohol laced in them. The roses, in the heat, are doing exactly what their bodies are doing - they are decomposing. They open up fully, as if forcefully, some blood red leaves are already at the floor. They are dying, James thinks. They are long dead, the righteous bastard said. They are living to the absolute fullest - what are roses to do with their life but to attract everyone with their smell? They look like they are happy to be opened up, letting go of their tight tension.

What is the summer? Is it murdering everyone with it’s fire, or on the contrary, is it making everything live? Maybe this is what life always is, when you strip it away from the past and the future, and fickles of imagination - long never ending boredom.

The most ridiculous thing that the weather brought him is arousal. James is having at the same time a full disassociation from his body, and the most ridiculous awareness of it. The arousal hadn’t hit him, the way it usually did. No, it has been growing steadily with the warmth, the same way that his body is getting warmer and hotter and wetter. It isn't as much of a body’s response, as it is body and weather growing at once as if they are same. 

So James just lowers his hand on his torso and takes the long route to get to his dick. He, unlike Sirius, is battling the heat without the clothes on. His hand gets wet with his sweat. James can feel his own smell, and barely contains himself from getting his hand into his mouth. Sirius is here. He would never let James live if he thought that James is getting off from himself.

His dick is already hard, but for some reasons James can't bear to allow an orgasm. It is already too hot. It would be too much, so he holds his dick very gently, unsure of what to do next.

He catches up the movement on his right as Sirius sits up to gulp iced water.

He definitely gets caught up in the smooth lines of Sirius’ body. Perfect, he is so perfect, prettiest damn picture James has ever seen. And Sirius knows it, he sees the pure hunger in James eyes. Hell, he could probably notice how James swallows the overflowing saliva, so thirsty. Sirius raises his arms, tensing the muscles, he knows so well how to look even better, how to use his body to the fullest. James is always surprised by the muscles Sirius has, he looks so lean, but here, right now, he sees how full he is. The chest is rising, as Sirius stretches. James is so distracted by everything - by the nipples, they aren’t quite as brown as James’ are, and then the rivers of the veins distract him, he wishes to bite them, to trace them with his mouth. But more, more, above all, he is so distracted by the muscles. All lean, so lean. But also perfect, and apparent. Sirius’ arms, shoulders, chest, stomach - all for James.

Sirius kind of makes a noise. Though, it could have been his stomach, too. Such heat has disappointed their stomachs so much they aren't able to eat or drink anything. But then Sirius gets all close to James, and James sees how Sirius is torn apart by trying to look at the same time at his hand, at his sweaty torso, at his face. He is about to do something - to lower himself to either, when James shakes off the summer trance and pushes Sirius away from him.

Sirius… Fuck. He looks fucking feral. His nostrils are flaring, breath shortened, the confusion in his eyes is there equal to the defiance. 

“Why?” - he barks out.

Fuck. Now the arousal decides to hit him with all its force, same force that Sirius spits the word out.

James takes off his hand from his dick, leaving it to hang there, heavy with all the blood. He then sits up, too. Anger in Sirius is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. Some ridiculous instinct inside James wants to coo over Sirius. Yes, that would end well, James knows.

“What changed? First, you gag for it, then you punch me for saying something about it, next that’s all you want.”

James doesn’t fucking care what has gotten into Sirius. After all, the simple zest of life, is enough of an answer, James knows that nothing ever stays same. He just wants to infuriate Sirius as much as he can. He wants to see how far Sirius will come, he wants Sirius to show all the colours of his desire.

And it all works. Sirius can’t even answer straight, he just stands up with the - I’m-so-annoyed - groan. And the he turns and leaves. 

But James didn’t want to make him leave, so James jumps from his pose, too. And catches Sirius as he moves to the kitchen.

The hand that Sirius has placed on the door handle of refrigerator stops all at once, when James puts his entire body to the Sirius’ back. 

Oh fuck, they both are so sweaty, their skin just sleazes around each other. 

It is hot, it is disgusting, it is so arousing, James has to find something to do with his dick, or it will fall off. He envelopes Sirius fully. 

When Sirius feels James’ dick right across his ass, only thin material between them, Sirius’ hand makes a jerky move and opens the refrigerator. The cold breath of it feels like a miracle on their skin.

James places his head on Sirius’ shoulder and enjoys the view of the shivers on his chest. Glorious, beautiful chest, skin almost luminescent with health. The nipples stand as rigid as Sirius himself. And that’s not even the best thing that stands… The tent gives James an idea. A fucked up idea, sure, born because his brain is cooked. He kisses Sirius on his tense shoulder.

“You know what, mate? You can’t leave me just like that there…” - and then, when he almost feels the sass answer Sirius is ready to supply him with, he hurries: “Just give me something for my wank bank.” 

And shit, Sirius’ dick twitches!

“Yes, my good boy is going to be good to me, isn’t he?” - the trick of talking to Sirius in that way is to never let him open his mouth.

“My good boy gon' come all over his panties and then give them to me, isn’t he?” - James moves his hands on Sirius’ chest. And then lets one go lower. 

Sirius, amazingly, is even tenser than before. Isn’t that what you wanted, James wants to ask. Instead he just kisses Sirius’ ear.

When his hand reaches the beginning of Sirius’ panties, he lingers. He needs to think what and how he is going to proceed. As he plays with the material on top, thinking, some of Sirius’ pubic hair make an entrance. Oh… Sirius usually is so hairless. Everywhere. 

So he shaves, just like James has suspected. No one is born without hair underneath arms. But it seems like Sirius has forgotten to take care of the hair there. James has never seen Sirius’ pubes.

He lowers the panties, entering another trance. Not too low, so that Sirius’ dick is covered in cotton, but low enough to see - Sirius’ hair aren’t curly, James thought all pubes are. They are messy, yes, but they are also clean, black and hard as wires. To be fair to Sirius, he doesn’t have many of them. 

James brings his hand into that bush and tugs. Sirius swallows. 

“So pretty. Everything about you, my baby, is so pretty, isn’t it?” - coos James over them.

“I’ll fucking wax them off,” - it is clear that Sirius wants to sound all careless, but his voice is on the edge of shaking.

James bites Sirius, and then says:

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Now, that, at last, makes Sirius moan. James suddenly remembers the moment on the beach when Sirius was full of him. How he slapped Sirius. And slaps Sirius’ arse. Breath leaves Sirius all at once.

But still, James feels guilty, that slap was uncalled for. He hates feeling like a bastard. So he leaves Sirius’ pubes, and lowers himself to sit in front of Sirius’ arse.

He then, very tenderly, kisses the spot that he slapped.

“What the fuck,” - well, now Sirius sounds panicked.

That’s too good of a power to pass, so James lowers Sirius’ panties, and kisses the bare skin of his ass. He kisses one cheek, and then hold another one in his hands, tenderly, like it was Sirius’ face, and kisses it too.

Sirius tries to run away from him, but he stops him by holding his hips in his hands. Through Sirius’ legs he can feel the cold of the noisy refrigerator. He kisses each cheek, again and again, each spot there, sometimes quick, but always tender. And then, when he spreads the cheeks to kiss each spot, the hole stops him. It is there, squirming, just like Sirius is. So James kisses it, too. 

And Sirius moans the most wanton moan of the history. Fuck. James feels his head hit with this drug.

He dives in, spreads the cheeks forcefully, the image of the flowers that got opened by the heat comes unbidden, and James does exactly what he wanted to do with those flowers - he eats Sirius alive. Only Sirius doesn’t open for him the way those flowers were opening up for the air, he closes off. James tries again and again, he knows he does something wrong, Sirius is there, ahead, cursing and tensing and squirming. And James doesn’t know how or what happens, only that Sirius bends and his ass gets even more James in the face, and he thinks of the roses, of their tight-buttonned centre, and inserts his tongue there.

The wave of something goes through Sirius. He bumps his head on refrigerator’s door, and holds himself upright only with his hands - they are white with tension.

James stands up, he quells the taste of Sirius by licking Sirius’ sweat from the back of his neck. 

James knows that Sirius didn’t come, only got surprised at the end. One day, he promises, his hands wordlessly apologizing to the cheeks, you will come from it.

And then he pushes his dick that was hard forever now between Sirius’ thighs, bringing the material upward, moving between thighs and panties, feeling the soft cheeks, but only through material. He plans on getting what he wanted from Sirius.

“Oh my God, James, what do you want?”

“I want you to come all over you pretty panties, baby,” - James says, moving between the thighs, while Sirius stands upright. He doesn’t let the refrigerator go.

He watches over his best friend back, all the muscles there, the shoulders so big. His hands hold the waist to move steadily.

“Touch yourself, Sirius,” - he says between his thrusts, and Sirius moans in answer.

“Touch yourself now,” - he barks an order.

Sirius gets his hand there before James finishes the sentence. He sees the hand moving in time with James’ thrusts.

“Yes, my baby. You’re imagining, I’m inside you, aren’t you?” - blabbers James, feeling the closeness of the orgasm. It is there, almost close to grab, but James doesn’t want to do it. That creates frustration because it seems like he will never cum now, he feels the anger already here, as his body demands for him to cum. But he holds off.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you, Sirius?”

“You want to be my cum basket, don’t you?”

“You want all my cum to be inside you, righ-?”- and then James can’t hold off any longer. And he comes, the wave comes over him, and he becomes afraid he won’t be able to ride it, so he just let’s go, and lets it take him.

James gets all soft, holding to Sirius. They are both sweaty, and the heat seems even crueler than before, it surrounds them, ready for murder. But inside their circle of arms, where James holds to Sirius and Sirius to refrigerator, exists peace. Sirius keeps going, and James kisses his shoulders, and Sirius moans, James can feel how close he is, from the sheer tension there, so he adds his hand and interlaces Sirius’ fingers on his dick. Sirius’ short breaths leave him forcefully, he is there, James thinks. He starts coming and James says:

“I’m going to my parents later.”

“What the actual fuck, James,” - cries Sirius, cumming hard.

His hands give out, and James holds him, and sits them down on the floor. 

“We were supposed to be recording shit today,” - says Sirius, looking at James who takes off his panties and holds them to his nose.

“Oh yeah…"


	4. Aug, 3 - Aug, 5. 1980

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for the chapter: death discussion... (is there anything else I need to tag?)

In the end, James gets a pass on today’s jam session. Remus looks so relieved that James isn't going to be too invested in the album-making process, that James demands they get together on the next day so that James would make the decisions regarding any choices made in the album-making. All three of them look terrified at that prospect, but it's James who's paying Gordon’s bills.

Instead he goes to the parents house. His mother sets up a table, and they spend a lazy day, talking and talking about philosophy of life, both his parents reassuring him that in the philosophical aspect, there is no difference whether a person has a job or not. They take a stance on it, basing it all on the fact, that at the end, “we all are dead, we all are ash.” Thank Heavens Above, they are so freaking rich. Not that in terms of that discussion, there is an allowance of the next life.

His father wants to know about the music they are making, so James lets his imagination run wild with all their possibilities. 

“Well, you have to admit, it is useless to think of us as musicians. We are artists, and we want to engage in all the mediums that are allowed for us in this tremendously limited world. We want try to affect people through their hearing, sight, nose, tongue, all five senses, and maybe even the sixth…”

“Why go by the rules of album-making? Our album is going to have all the best qualities of a detective novel, with a plot twist at the end, that will make the listeners reconsider everything they heard… With the qualities of attention to details that Michelangelo was giving to his works…”

“It is obvious that all art is not only political. It has to be political. It has to make a conscious decision to be political. And with everything that we are seeing in the politics right now - Death Eaters are still uncaptured, nation was stripped from it’s anti-nazi facade, even if the war was averted. An idiot wants to rule the country…”

“The world is exceptionally unfair - think of women, homosexuals, transgender, black, muggle-born, disabled wizards and the lives they are living…”

“Not to mention the obvious economical disbalance, capitalism as a system was built on profiting upon the most unprotected group - the poor…”

His parents don’t really like this talk of communism, because they are rich. But at least they are black and rich, so it all doesn’t lead to him being thrown on the streets, but rather lead out to an invitation to spend a night celebrating art. Well, if his parents sleep better at night, thinking of him as a musician, not a politician, James thinks it is within their rights. 

His mother raises very gently the question regarding his most recent spendings, because, “James, money aren’t eternal,” but backs off almost immediately when James goes into the critique of those papers determining everything. 

So, yes, James’ parents are grand. Not everything is perfect in their political outlook, but they love him dearly, James knows it. The entire evening, at the end of it, James muses, is all about them showing just how much they love him.

They go to a grand place. If James was too look, he's sure he’d find all twenty-eight purest represented. Apart from Weasleys.

The music that he shares that day with bunch of snobs, is… Beautiful. 

James is reminded of the power of magic in that place here. The musician plays the melody on the piano, and creates the magic through it, the way wizards usually do through their wands. The magic that he creates, just like the classical piece he plays, doesn’t require understanding, doesn’t require words to describe it. It is a beauty in it’s true form. 

But then, James reconsiders his decision of not describing and understanding and simply taking everything in, when the lone piano player is joined by the orchestra. He doesn’t even know the names of many of those instruments, but he sees that all of them need magic for it to be played through. The most magical one is surrounding the musician who plays on it, like the wings. She dance-touches the crystal feathers, and each one makes a heart-clenching sound that vibrates through the room, high-pitched, yet tender.

It is something that James knows he will experience only once in his life, so he starts memorising, synthesising everything he sees, so that in the years to come he would be able to live the moment here, at least through the memories.

There are flashes of colour that appear on stage, each, somehow, appearing to be called out from behind the usual spectre, the colours unseen to an eye appear on the stage, and later James will wonder if the musicians have spread their magic upon them that turned their eyes into some other species’ eyes. The flashes of sparks, bright, carry the smell. And, amongst all other mediums, the power of the smell, is the most powerful. Just like amortencia makes one remember the love, something of it is distilled here. 

Only it doesn’t only carry the love. It carries the wonder of life, makes the memory resurface of James, young and eight at most, running through the field at summer, catching the first breeze of night, and feeling deep inside how lucky he is to be alive, what an absolute joy it is to live, and how astonishing it is to be him and live the life he is living.

And then, the deep-rooted essence of friendship, and that is, of course, Sirius. Sirius everywhere. From their first moment at the Hogwarts express, through all they’ve been in school, to the morning today, James fingers clutch reflexively on the present he got from him today.

Scent changes, as if attuning to James’ mood, and the next memories come… Of sex. Of the drive, and want, and then even need, selfish need that makes him think he’d die without it, James has to turn his body away from his parents. The memory comes, James almost anticipates it, of… Sirius and his shoulders, his hair, luminescent skin, hot mouth beneath James going soft with the pleasure, and, fuck, no, no, that isn’t…

James makes himself think, through the heady smell of sex everywhere, and the memories it brings - Lily.

He anticipates the memory of him and Lily on the Astronomy tower in their last year of school to hit him. Didn’t he use that memory, like he saved other memories for Patronus charm, that particular memory to get himself hard?… And instead, when the scent attunes to him and changes, it brings another memory completely.

_“Will you ever, ever make a commitment, James?”_

Those words, James knows that now, were the beginning of the end. 

_“We wanted to get married after school,” - “We thought we’d die after school.”_

_“I want a child, James! I thought you did, too,” - “And I do! Just why now? We are young, we have out whole lives ahead of us…”_

The casual conversation he heard of Lily with someone on the phone:

 _“I understand now why high-school sweethearts aren’t meant to survive,”_ \- a chuckle at the end of sentence was entirely devoid of humour.

And it makes James feel such a pain, he tears the first time that evening. And he thinks that it is unfair, because this is not all, this isn’t how his relationship with Lily were, this isn’t how they felt like.

Mercifully, the music changes to something absolutely heart-breaking, the beauty that isn’t meant to last is spread across it, and James received the memories the last fight with Lily almost exterminated.

The flight on the broom late at night at Hogwarts when Lily was promising him stars, that first time they had in some vacant room they mercifully found, it was true love-making, none of that desperation they got for each other another night at the Astronomy Tower. But better memories come of their life after school, and their little house.

Lily with her hair in a messy bun, in some baggy clothes, reading something so smart, with ambivalent music filling the air around her, how many times James has seen this picture happen? Did he know then what a treasure it was to see her in those moments of softness? James thinks that he knew even better then what a treasure he was seeing.

The other memories start coming, as the music starts coming to it’s end, and struggles to change James’ mood, but he holds on. Just enough to feel all the love he felt then for Lily, to feel the man inside him that loved her so dearly, he demands James to come back and to make a commitment or do anything to be loved by Lily, didn’t it feel good to be loved by her? Doesn’t he love her, this man James used to be, so much? 

She was my first love, James says wordlessly, and cries in true.

Mercifully, the music is right there to pick James where his thoughts lead him. 

Now James knows what is being spread through music, colours and smell. It is love. What else to end this concert with?

Lily, and his parents, Remus, Peter and Sirius come to him, the connection between them almost not requiring any foundation of sensations, of memories, rather James feels it in fullest, purest form. 

And then, at last, the concert concludes with the splashing bang of each path they made their audience take - the wonder, the exhilaration, the love, the grief, the want, the need the lust and sadness of being alive. And people come to him - his parents, Sirius, Remus, Lily, Sirius, Peter, Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, Sirius!..

It all ties together as the song of glory to life. And James is so shaken, stripped naked here, so damn amazed by living, feeling so lucky to be there and to feel all that crazy everything that exists in each moment.

His mother says, before he has the chance to shake off the feeling from that concert:

“Tomorrow your dad and I will have to move to the St. Mungo,”

“Why?,” - asks James, barely thinking of her words.

“We have the dragon pox.”

James doesn’t need to know the cruel statistic of that disease to know that it is serious, because of the sound of his mother’s voice when she says it.

Two things happen at once - James starts giggling. And he feels most utter disgust directed at himself for doing it. Why the fuck did he start to laugh?...

**

The mirror all but explodes by the urgency Sirius has, the magic heats the glass, it almost bubbles.

And there is a strange disconnection James has in reaction to it. He’s been ignoring the build-up tension and urgency so far, he manages to do it even now. Instead he quietly says goodbye to his parents, who are asleep now. Why didn’t James notice from the first glance how tired they looked?

Lately whenever he’s been noticing their pronounced exhaustion and greying colours, he’s been drawing it off as the sign of their age. It was hard to visibly see his parents, who in his memories, were never young to begin with, growing old. But then, what is an old age for wizards? And rich wizards, too.

Lily’s parents died, and James has known that her desire to have a child was spiked by that event. Now he understands. After all, except for a sister she hasn’t been really in touch with, Lily hasn’t had a family. How much it was hurting her, that James was refusing to start building a new one with her?

Lily’s parents were younger than his. But they were also muggles. Magic, especially when comparing it’s effects to the muggle world, always seems so without fault, all-powerful.

How fitting, or unfitting, that the damp of his memories of Lily has been broken in the exact moment that his parents were hospitalised. 

James makes a decision and picks up the mirror.

Sirius looks wild.

He barks out:

“Where are you?”

And then James sees how the understanding that James is answering his call settles in, and the clear relief makes it’s way to his face. How beautiful it is to see Sirius without an ounce of pretence or act.

James himself didn’t really mean to disappear for full two days. It was only that he went with his parents back home and helped them pack the last bits, and then went with them to St. Mungo. There he talked with their healer, a nice elderly witch (would it always be like that for James? When he looked at her, he thought - she is older than my parents) who has explained him what is awaiting his parents. And then he had to take a walk. He took a long walk, all night long… At the end of it, he found himself walking by the shore of the ocean. He surely couldn’t have walked all the way there, so he must have been sporadically apparating. His control over the magic inside was gone like the seven years of schooling.

The next day, he couldn’t bear to think of anyone but his parents, so he went there to be with them, to take care of them. He was so fucking terrible at taking care of them. 

Something in his mind has short-cutted, so he has not understood that it was, in fact, another day, and that Sirius would be worried since he hadn’t informed him on his location.

“Fuck you, Prongs! You fucking know that that bitch Bellatrix is out there, and you still fuck me like that?”

Yeah, James should have thought of that, had he thought of anything at all.

He sees Remus and Peter behind Sirius, they are much nicer to him than Sirius and ask if he’s alright, and all that shit.

James thinks and thinks, but only one thing is there on his mind, one thing only. He thinks he should tell them that he has been with his parents, that they are ~~mortally~~ sick… And he says:

“I need to see Lily, don’t wait up on me,” - and puts the mirror down.

**

“I just…. Ohhhhh, FUCK,” - James could feel the tears falling. He kept going so that Lily wouldn’t notice. - “What type of joke life is? You are fucking trying your damnest best, harder than anyone, you like aim high and get everything there, you’re out there putting everything out of your arse, doing everything harder than anyone. Like assertive and shit and you’re doing everything so hardly… So many people out there living some whichever-way-easiest, not even trying to put everything into stuff, they are so vigilant and safe-proofing themselves, and it is you life decides to fuck with most. It is you who fucking gets hardest hits from that bitch, she doesn’t even pull back, just full-on declares a war on you and destroys you.”

“Maybe that’s the point?"

“If you love somebody and you give out everything to those people, you hardly fucking care about anything beyond them, you just love them and it is such a violent thing, too… Fuck, Lils, the way that hurts…” - he sobs and there is no point to trying to hide, so he just sobs out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James's parents actually died before 1979... but let's say the peace elongated their lives a bit.


	5. Aug, 5 - Aug, 12. 1980

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for the chapter: death discussion, (kind of) mentions of self-harm, drugs and strong language

James throws himself into the only responsibility he has - the music business. It was supposed to be a joke, he knows, but suddenly he is desperate to lose himself in some kind of work. 

The talk with his parents comes fully, to the front, the only thing he remembers that clear from that day: the discussion of the music he promised his parents they will make.

He feels like he has found a rabbit hole down which he throws himself in - everything that comes to his mind is bizarre, and later bizarrer still, he can’t make sense of it, but he tries to bend everything in his mind towards that talk that he’s had with the parents. 

He doesn’t create, as much as he vomits the music, makes the songs out of himself, and then works with those poor tinkering things, bending and breaking them so that they would be ready to fill the forms that he needs them to have - throws political, throws cheap detective novel and their pathetic plot twists, pours over insufficient details that seem to call him. The result of that sporadic burst is that there are two moments in all the songs he’s written where a single note carries hours of work, when all other shit was thrown out in one single go, against his will, forceful.

And when he isn’t working, which is a lot, too many hours, day becomes a long enterprise to bear, Sirius is there. Sirius is there when James works, too. SIrius is with him, almost constantly, they all but pee together, and even that they do together once their day routines synchronize completely. James is half-sure his parents contacted him. Please, save our son! - in his mind the talk that went between them becomes caricature.

But Sirius does save him, and does it in the most hyperbolized way possible - he takes James into his arms and wipes his tears and snot. He becomes James’ shadow, as he was when they were in school, and it is strange that James feels such relief from it. Amidst the wreckage that is his life, it becomes easy to admit that he’s loved the codependency he and Sirius developed in their early years, barely standing to be away from each other, being possessive of other’s time, thoughts, affection. Later, they tried to separate, mainly because they felt the invisible pressure to do it - they had to find girls they’d fancy and touch them all over, and not each other, they had to be with each other brisk and curt, and not at all as affectionate as they both craved the other to be, they had to pretend not to need the care or devotion, there was suddenly no jealousy allowed. James knew that the rules that they obeyed were moronic, and Sirius, he knows, knew it even better, but it was a form of care for the other one - they could bear for themselves to be free and soft, a center of the joke as old as the boarding schools of Britain, but not to subject the other one to the humiliation.

Sirius follows him everywhere, except for the hospital ward where his parents lie, there he only waits for hours at the time for James to be done. James himself feels no shame about his parents’ state, neither, he thinks, he’d feel guilty for using Sirius to help him in a responsibility that is his, they two shared weirder things to be embarrassed to not share anything. He knows that Sirius wants to help him, if only to lessen his burden even a little, but he doesn’t let Sirius do it because of his parents. They feel embarrassed for their state, and so James has to suffer to be separated from Sirius for that time of their care. It is, thankfully, too demanding of a work for James to be thinking of Sirius and crave him.

**

Gordon looks over pages and notes that James throws at him, and it becomes clear that with each passing moment from the excitement he’s felt when he first skimmed over the amount of everything James has done flushes away.

“James, I don’t know … How to say it?…” 

Sirius interrupts Gordon with a leash of a voice:

“This is a masterpiece.” 

**

Gordon talks some shit about hiring a composer, a producer for their songs, a songwriter, and James barely understands how, but the talk swerves towards the money, though doesn’t the talk with such shallow-minded people always resolve around this? 

And Gordon presses it into him - _but the money_ , think of the opportunity to get, think, think, think only of money. And James just laughs into his face,

“Gordon, I’m literally staring death in the face!” - he screams at him, knowing he’d never understand. James simply can’t be bothered with this most intense game of pretence all adults play - of thinking that pieces of paper are in any way important.

Gordon flushes red, gets defensive, as if James offending money is an insult to his own mother, and, almost trembling, tells him that he, James, a person, who’s never had to work hard, who’s been born into money would never understand what they are - that they are food when you’re famished, they’re shelter when it’s winter, they’re dignity and respect, and through that even friendship and love, and James thinks that yes, Gordon who has to personality, no character, no looks or brains, no dignity or self-respect would probably only have world bearable by the money.

**

What he does more in that fractured, painful week is also care for his parents. The sickness progresses almost too quickly to make a sense, and James wonders if it is only because his parents waited until the very last moment to tell him. 

When they first told him, he’s hoped, he felt sure, he’d have a year with them, no matter how small a time it seemed, it seemed enough. Now, watching the rapid decay of their bodies, hopeless against illness, he only hopes for a month. A good month. 

But then the illness starts corroding the brain, making them lose control of their bodies, subjecting them to such abrupt bursts of magic, they become a danger to themselves, and James sees how torturous it is for them - his highly respected parents, by the curse of the illness reduced and reduced to a state they feel shame at being. He doesn’t really care then of their shame, still wishes for as much as they can squeeze out of life, at this point he is so high on the murderous cocktail of drugs that he feels almost joy to be helping them - to wipe them, wash them, feed them, care and tend for them. 

He thinks that it is weird that he finds this caring role so rewarding and joyful. 

Lily wanted a child so badly, and James thinks that he’s never minded against it, he took the position as the leader of the Marauders mainly because he enjoys mothering everyone around him, even tyrannising them in his version of care. But he felt he was too young for being a father, he wanted to have the time to run with his boys out of constraints of the school, to free himself out of the system. He got that and more, and hopes for the child were somehow delayed, and James thought himself lucky to have the time to postpone the weight of responsibility that would someday press him.

But he wanted it, and, sometimes, he felt a sort of emptiness that was no doubt caused by the lightness of his current life, and then he'd crave to be pressed into being a father. But there was nothing to press him. Until now.

Now he finds himself in the role of being his parents’ parent, and, weirdly, maybe thanks to the drugs, he enjoys it. He thinks that all children live their lives, so indebted to their parents for providing life and care, with ease under that gigantic debt precisely because they all know that one day they will have to pay it back. He’s never known he’d be capable of doing something like that as gracefully as he does it, but, surprisingly, that is one thing in his life that he almost aces. Of course, it helps greatly to have all the services needed paid and taken care of. So, maybe, he’s not that special. Maybe, it’s his parents’ money that make things run smooth.

Half of the confidence is coming from drugs, he knows, another part from the alcohol. He is so inebriated it is a wonder his parents don’t notice, but then they are even more intoxicated. 

But still, he thinks, this state of despair, this fractured, broken self was born from something else, and not at all the drugs, or even the punch that life dealt him. James can admit that his feelings, his explosive reaction is too blown-out of the proportions to be entirely honest and real. But that dishonesty is out of his control, he isn’t a driver of that reaction, only a passenger. 

Looking realistically at his situation - he is a 20-year old losing his elderly parents. He gets to say goodbye. This situation is the best scenario situation the life can give him, so is it not a blessing?

James can feel the fakeness of the emotions that tear him apart. 

But it is because he is afraid, and he’s afraid because throughout his life he’s never had the chance to deal with anything like what is happening right now - the situation is the first and only breath of tragedy in the entirety of James’ coddled life, and that's he doesn’t feel that such fakeness of erupted emotions is conscious. He is so afraid to be destroyed by their death and not notice it. He is afraid that precisely because right now he doesn’t feel no sense of tragedy, it is going to hit him on a regular Tuesday morning, some years later, to surely destroy him. He is afraid it is going to somehow grow if he doesn’t keep noticing it, like an illness, and then it will have his entire being under the mercy of the spell. 

And that’s why he wants to drink the bitter drink now and feel the poison now, and ride out and waste the curse, while he can control it, while he can choose the way he is going to do it. He overreacts, that much is true, and the honesty doesn’t come easily, but he is bold enough to bite the bullet and face the reality. But he hopes that this - whatever that is - is going to save him, like he is drinking not only the bitterness of the current moment, but adds the future ones to the cup while he’s at it.

**

Sirius finds him, though James doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know where he is. 

Just moments ago he was in the hospital. His parents have fallen asleep, and something in their postures, in the colour of their skin seemed to James a sign that they won’t wake. He apparated without control, sporadically, and, to be honest, he doesn’t know where he is - the place empty of any kind of human presence. But the England dirty sky tells him that it couldn’t have been far.

The hills and the wind, and then, with the loud clap, Sirius. It is quiet here, in the way that nature is quiet, in that deafening way. James thinks he hears the waves breaking. 

He goes towards the sound of the water, unconsciously, he only tries to keep his back to Sirius. Sirius follows him, James knows.

Water looks cold, just like the wind is, James is chilled to the bone. Thankfully, on the beach, he sees a tiny cottage, and makes his way there, his feet dragging in the sand, but the strain in the muscles is welcome. And then, as he comes closer to the house, he feels the first drips of the rain falling on him - they are ice cold, piercing needles. He knows that Sirius shortened the distance because he hears him right behind him, coming closer.

James raises his face to the skies and watches the deep-grey skies, fighting to leave the eyes open against the raindrops. 

The idea comes to his head, and he can’t shake it out.

“Go inside, build a fire,” - he commands Sirius. Sirius watches him, unimpressed. 

James wonders if he knows, or at least suspects what James wants to do. He’d want to do it with him, if he knew. But James doesn’t want that. There will be time for that weird codependency between them, for that unhealthy need-crave for each other, there will be entire life ahead of James to devoted to Sirius, and be showered in greater devotion back.

But right now, he can’t even let Sirius know for sure what is it that he’s going to do. James has half a mind to use the magic against Sirius - freeze him and hide him inside that house, if he doesn’t enter there agreeably.  

The long moment passes - Sirius watches him, James can’t stand to see him back, - and Sirius closes the door with a force on the inside. 

James sits for a breath, fighting that silly guilt that arises immediately as he understands that he hurt Sirius. And then, he tries to return to the moment before Sirius - when he was so sure he knew what he needed to do. Right now, the idea seems, at best, suicidal.

The rain drizzles over him, far away thunder rumbles, and he can’t find anything in himself that was sure. So he just sits, unable to do anything else. It seems like his entire will has been spent out, and now he’ll never be able to do anything.

He hears Sirius tinkering with something inside. What is he doing outside, cold, miserable, lonely? Sirius can make it better, he wants to help James, he’d be so happy if James let him. And, maybe, he even can help. James will latch onto him and suck half his spirit out, that much’s true…

The lightning strikes somewhere behind James, he hears Sirius dropping something heavy. He wants to forget all the rest and come inside and see what it was, when the thunder starts.

It’s a long, deep voice that shakes James’ body, he feel the deep vibration inside himself, deep to the core. And, just like that, his idea doesn’t seem all that crazy.

He undresses without hesitation and modesty. Completely naked he stands under the rain and he feels, as if in answer to his action, the rain changes slowly from drizzle into proper storm.

He can’t stand to be so close to that cottage, that illusion of comfort and Sirius, so he runs towards the ocean, feeling himself more and more free as he puts the distance between him and his clothing and that roof he hadn’t hidden under.

He shakes with the coldness of the wind and the rain, but his spirit is at long last stronger that such trivialities. Without trepidations, he jumps into the water.

He screams from the pain of his body colliding with the cold wall of water, but he forces himself to dive under the crushing waves, and, god knows, he tries to swim, but he is nothing against the force of nature, he is a toy at the mercy of the force.

His body is thrown back and forth, his leg almost crumps because of the cold water, because of the futile effort of his muscles, he is sure he is about to die.

The rain becomes a full-blown waterfall and it is hard to make out in those moments when he gasps for the air where exactly is the water and where the skies, the lightning blinds, the thunder threatens him under, he gets a mouthful of water, tries to cough out, he can’t see anything because of the rain falling directly into his eyes. The next big wave sends him tumbling inside the water, and when at long last he makes out where up is, and pushes for the air, he is beaten with something. It feels like a stone. When he manages to open his eyes and clear his mind from panic, he understands that the rain turned hail.

He doesn’t die, but when, hours later or so it feels, he limps his body out of the water, he thinks he might as well had.

He stays where he is - naked body on the wet cold sand - skies above him dark not because of clouds, but because of lateness of the hour.

And he is glad he is alive. The feeling is so strong, he could laugh, but he can’t feel a single muscle inside. He only breathes out, his lungs so worked out, James is sure they are ripped, he feels the warmness where his blood drips from the damaged-by-ice eyebrow.

Breath in, breath out. It hurts to breathe, everything hurts.

He doesn’t cry, nor does he get hard, and he doesn’t smile, he can’t scream or even lift a muscle inside his body, but the emotion is there nonetheless - the one that rides him, the one he rides, touching everywhere inside him, he feels how it evaporates the hazy steam of the drugs and their effect on him - he is glad he is alive.

When he stumbles into the cottage, Sirius wakes, and James feels happy Sirius slept, so he probably hadn’t known what James did, how he almost died. The fire is dying out on the other side. The place is rotten, abandoned years ago. James sees the cans that Sirius has left near the fire, and he feels famished, like he hasn’t eaten for years. James can’t remember the last time he’s eaten, but now he feels that he could eat a feast for ten. 

He wolfs down the food while Sirius watches him, and James can’t guess what he is thinking of, his face a game of fire and shadows. 

He looks comfy - he’s found or spelled himself a quilt, James sees a bit of his chest in the fire and guesses that Sirius is naked under the big fluffy cover.

His face is coloured with the warmness of the hut, James makes fire burn brighter, deep inside he is still cold from the weather outside. (And deeper inside, he is burning).

James worms his way into Sirius’ space, under the cover. And Sirius doesn’t say anything, only keeps watching him with the same dark eyes. James’ jeans start itching, they are full of sand, he couldn’t even have worn the shirt, so he and Sirius meet chest to chest, skin on skin.

James struggles with his jeans and then trows them out of their warm hug. And when he sees that Sirius is still watching him, James looks at his best friend back.

Familiar tenderness spreads across James, he lifts his hand and places it one Sirius’ cheek - the skin pleasantly warm, and then he brings his face closer and kisses Sirius on the lips. The hunger for life that still burns inside directs it’s crave onto Sirius’ taste and he wills himself not to eat Sirius’ face, but still kisses Sirius differently than he started, less tender, more open-mouthed and hungered, the type of kiss that gets James hard in no time. His dick pokes Sirius’ thigh. Sirius doesn’t do anything, let’s himself be kissed, let’s himself be touched by his dick. Only watches him, and doesn’t say anything.

James navigates himself onto Sirius, places his hard dick squeezed between their warm bodies, drops his head deep into the warmness of Sirius, into his neck, and immediately falls asleep.


End file.
